


Doc Takes a Risk

by springstorms



Series: charbitch <3 [5]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Charbitch, Dialogue Heavy, Doc says ACAB, First Kiss, Fluff, Gift Giving, It's all here folks!, Love Confessions, M/M, charlie kelly: unofficial catboy, the gang's schemes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:28:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springstorms/pseuds/springstorms
Summary: This fic has it all: katana schemes, incompetent police, love confessions...Basically Doc decides to finally tell Charlie how he feels. What could go wrong?
Relationships: Charlie Kelly/Scientist (It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia)
Series: charbitch <3 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005804
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	Doc Takes a Risk

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy I wanted to finally write these two getting together so here that is <3

Charlie was asleep on the woven rug by the large lounge window, cheek pressed against the colorful wool and sunlight slating through the blinds to bathe him in strips of warm light. His phone was laying next to one hand, open to one of the animated games that he played when he was distracted. His other hand was stretched out towards Schrödi, sleeping next to him and looking as indulgent as ever. She was just as fond as napping on the floor as Charlie seemed to be, something that Doc had gently discouraged for a while but couldn't really fault when he saw how much Charlie genuinely seemed to enjoy it even before Schrödi had come along. Most of the time it was while he was at work while the morning sun was still streaming in through the window, but occasionally on free weekends he'd come over in the morning and slowly edge closer and closer to the window under the guise of playing with Schrödi on the rug until he'd eventually move from playing with her to petting her to sleeping alongside her in the span of around ten minutes. "It's not my fault it's so quiet here!" He'd say an hour or two later when he awoke to see Doc in the same spot he'd been before, marking his place in his book with his fingers and wearing a wry smile. "Seriously, I think you think I'm exaggerating when I describe what trying to sleep at my apartment is like. Imagine one hundred Schrödis!"

Doc stared down at Charlie curled up next to Schrödi, both mirroring each-other's body language, and his heart gave a painful stutter. He feared he was growing considerably too used to this. He didn't know what it was that Charlie really thought of him or of their arrangement, if he even gave it any thought at all. He knew what happened to people who entered the gang's lives, though, and he occasionally found himself wondering if the same kind of fate lie in store for him, too. He didn't think he'd end up destitute or ruined just by association, but, well, there was rather a large pool of evidence suggesting otherwise. Even if he didn't know much, though, he was fairly positive that Charlie wouldn't let that happen. He knew, at the very least, that Charlie cared about him enough to prevent that from happening.

Labels didn't matter too much to Charlie, who didn't seem to care much about using them in literally any area of his life (including but not limited to gender, emotion, social conventions, and what did or didn't count as edible). He was one whose feelings were an extension of his person. Doc almost envied it, that kind of direct line between intention and follow-through. He could feel paralyzed by his reliance on labels, so used to analyzing the minds of others that his own feelings were constantly in dispute. _Why_ did he feel a certain way, what had caused it? Was it psychological, physical, or both? 

With Charlie, though, he couldn't pinpoint why exactly he liked him so much, only that he did. Charlie was refreshing, and curious, and different from anybody else he'd ever met, for better or for worse. (Mostly for better.) He liked taking care of him.

Charlie's eyelids flickered in his sleep and the sun streaming through the window lit up every strand of hair on his head, threading it through with gold and falling favorably upon the dusting of freckles across his face. Sometimes Doc wanted to trace the bridge of his nose and tap every single one. 

Doc decided to leave him be for the time being, making his way to the kitchen to put the groceries away as quietly as possible. When he opened the cupboard where he stores the cat treats, though, he heard the tell-tale sound of Schrödi leaping up and the pitter-patter of her little claws on the hardwood. "You're clever, aren't you?" He whispered, crouching down to rub at her ears. "Perhaps Pavlov should have used cats, hmm?" She rolled onto her side and he rubbed the multicolored splotches of fur on her soft stomach, watching her stretch luxuriously and bask in the attention. He looked up a few minutes later and Charlie was leaning against the doorway, a pair of sweatpants rolled up at the ankles to fit him without being too long. His stomach gave a lurch. 

"She's the most spoiled cat I've ever met." Charlie said, not moving from his spot. 

"That's certainly true." Doc said. Schrödi's purring filled the room. 

"She spent at least a few years living on the streets, though, so I guess she earned it." Charlie added, walking over and crouching down to scratch under her chin. 

Doc glanced up at him, suddenly finding it much harder to breath. It was simply ridiculous that he felt more nervous around Charlie _now_ than ever before after they'd spent so many months being friends but, well. He hadn't known the depth of his feelings then. These days they were growing terribly difficult to ignore. He wasn't like Charlie—he cared about labels. He wanted to give words to his feelings, make them known. Make sure Charlie knew so that he didn't get too comfortable around him only to have a rude awakening later when the force of holding his feelings in grew too difficult to bear. 

Whenever he tried to say something the words got stuck in his throat, though, thick and desperate to tumble out every time Charlie got too close. _I could say it right now_ he thought, eyes flicking from Charlie's messy hair to his thin t-shirt and away to the safety of the wall behind him, nice and blank and not looking at him with expectant green eyes. "Charlie?" he asked, forcing his eyes back to his. 

Charlie tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement, seeming to sense his nerves. 

"...I'm afraid I'll be late if I don't head out pretty soon."

"Alright, dude, no big deal. I think the gang are doing some kinda Indiana Jones-style scheme today anyway that I didn't really wanna miss, anyway."

"Excellent." he smoothed his hands over his thighs then abruptly stood up. "Breakfast?" He retreated to the kitchen without waiting for an answer, busying himself with unloading his grocery bags. 

Charlie thought he seemed a bit off but didn't say anything, busying himself with Schrödi. If he was still weird later maybe he'd say something, but he knew that even Doc liked to keep some things private. It was probably more of the work stuff that always seemed to be stressing him out.

  
  
*—*—*

"Good afternoon, everyone. This week we're going to be focusing on the human inclination towards adrenaline-seeking and impulsion. You could even call it the psychology of risk-taking." Doc clicked his clicker and the projector flickered to life. 

Dennis was sitting on a barstool at Paddy's, glaring at Dee from above a beer. "Shut up, bird, I'm trying to make a bigger point here: we need to be smarter about which risks we take and which risks we don't." He surveyed Mac, Dee, and Frank one by one. "That means Mac: Don't do stupid things to win my approval, but _also_ don't do nothing because you're afraid I'll be mad. Dee: don't try too hard to be likable or funny or pretty or successful because, well…" he clicked his tongue. "—but _also_ don't completely give up and stop trying at all, because that's even more pathetic. Frank: don't be reckless enough to try things that would kill someone in their twenties, much less someone who's…" he waved his hand, "however old you are. But _also,_ don't be too lame to do anything at all. Guys, it's simple; it's about _balance."_

Doc was pointing at the projected image of a white-haired man with round glasses behind him with a laser pointer. " _That_ is what we can learn from Heider: the human drive towards psychological balance. Even in the pursuit of adrenaline and stimulation, there's also a fundamental need for cognitive consistency, for balance." He clicked his clicker again. "Though there will be some normal variance, the average person will lay somewhere in the middle when it comes to adrenaline-seeking activities versus safer ones. When it comes to the aptly-named adrenaline junkie, though, there are often many different psychological factors at play there. Most often you'll see overlap with substance abuse, narcissism, and sociopathic tendencies."

Dennis finished his beer and swiftly opened another one, handing Mac his empty bottle and watching him chuck it across the room and cheer when most of the pieces landed in the trash. "—And _that's_ the importance of a calculated risk. Did Mac know for sure that the bottle would land in the trash? No, he didn't. But there was a good enough chance that it would that I trusted him to succeed." 

Mac beamed and puffed out his chest, proud of himself. 

"Can you just get to the point?" Dee said, glancing up from her phone.

"Goddamnit, Dee, I'm doing a whole thing here! You'd appreciate it more if you weren't on your phone right in the middle of it." 

"Well maybe I wouldn't be on my phone if you'd _get to the point."_

" _Fine._ What I'm saying is we need to apply these principles to this katana scheme, alright? We all know what happened the last time we snuck into UPenn, this time has to be more thought-out." 

"That's exactly why we need Charlie!" Frank said, clearly upset. 

"No, Frank, that's exactly why we don't need Charlie. He's the one who got upset last time when shit went south." 

"He's good at prowling around and he's small enough to hide places the rest of you can't!" Frank protested.

"Um, _I'm small en-"_

"No you're not, Dee. And Frank, I get that you miss him, and stuff, I do too, but that doesn't mean we need to get him in on this one! He'll just be upset that we're stealing from where Science Bitch works." Mac said. 

As if on cue Charlie burst through the door, pulling off a new warm jacket that he'd been wearing over his faded green one. "Hey, guys, I didn't miss the plan, right?" 

Dennis stared. "I thought you were hanging out with Science Bitch today." 

"I was, but he had to go work. Now I can help you with the Indiana Jones thing, though, so it works out!" 

"Well...we've kiiiinda already given everybody a job." Dee said. 

"Oh...well, are you sure you guys don't need me to hide anywhere? I'm good at prowling and I can fit where the rest of you can't." 

"Damn right, Charlie!" Frank encouraged. 

"Charlie...you know where we're trying to steal from, right?" Mac asked. 

"Just like a museum or something, right?"

"Well...no. The katana we want is being stored by the anthropology department at UPenn because they wanna study it, or whatever."

"...Oh." Charlie said. "Is that why you guys didn't want me to help on this one?" 

"Whaaat? Of course not." Mac said unconvincingly. 

Charlie hesitated, caught between not wanting to be left out but knowing that he'd probably not be able to keep this from Doc who would inevitably pin him with one of those steady looks that always made him tell the truth. "I mean, if you don't _really_ need me...I could always catch up on work here…" he forced himself to say. 

"That sounds like a great idea, Charlie." Dennis said at the same time as Frank said "We _do_ really need you!"

"Sorry, Frank, I think I'm gonna have to sit out on this one…you guy'll show me the katana once you get it back here, though, right?"

"Of course, dude! It's gonna be _sick!_ " Mac did a couple of practice karate chops with his empty beer bottle in one hand to mimic the swing of the katana. 

" _Dude_!" Charlie said, struck by an idea. "I can pick up watermelons 'n shit for you to slice if you want!"

"Dude, _yes."_ Mac said, eyes as wide as saucers. 

"Great idea, Charlie, why don't you go start on that now?" Dennis said.

"One question, though." Charlie said, pausing by the door.

"What?" Dennis asked, doing his best to be patient. 

"Isn't this, like, the exact opposite of an Indiana Jones scheme? He literally worked at a college and stole from, like, nazis, not other archeologists." 

Dee shot Dennis an I-told-you-so look. "Do the logistics matter?" Dennis asked. "We just wanna take it from boring academics who want to keep it hidden in a dark room and actually do cool shit with it, like it was originally intended for! And then maybe sell it when it gets old."

Charlie shrugged. "I was just asking. I'll see you guys!" The second the door was closed a rat shot out from a hole in the wall, skittering across the floor. 

"You know, Frank might have a point." Dennis said, watching the rat consideringly. "I don't mind the whole actually-bathing and knowing what words mean thing Charlie's got going on, but I _do_ mind him questioning perfectly good plans and also letting rats completely overrun this place." 

"They're getting braver." Dee said matter-of-factly. "One was in the bathroom this morning. Crawled right over my shoe!"

"If they're brave enough to be in the same stall as Dee when she's inflicting that kind of damage then we're _really_ in trouble." Mac said. 

"...Good point. We'll have to work on getting him at least partially back through the subtle art of manipulation. We can focus on that later." Dennis said. Frank deflated; clearly he'd been hoping for more. "Now, Frank." Dennis said, back to business. "Where does the guy who made the replica want to meet? You have the cash, right?" 

Frank, seized by an idea, didn't say anything. Mac nudged him. "Frank?" 

Frank walked to the center of the bar and stopped, squaring his shoulders in what was clearly supposed to be a commanding stance. "I'm not telling you or financing any further schemes until you help me get Charlie back." 

The group collectively groaned. 

"Come _on,_ Frank, now's not the time." Dee said. 

"She's right, dude, this plan basically only works if we do it tonight." Mac added. 

"I already said I'd deal with it, just not today, man. Come _on_." Dennis said, grip tight around his bottle. 

"Nope. My way or the highway." Frank stood his ground. "I will be in the back office until you're ready to negotiate." He disappeared into the small room. 

Dennis threw his hands up in the air and stomped to the office. " _Fine!_ _Great! Let's fucking negotiate!"_

Doc glanced at his wrist-watch, pleased to see that it was almost the end of his lesson. "That's where the natural negotiation process can go awry. An individual with a more balanced dopamine response may not be as easily swayed towards more dangerous risks. Conversely, though, one can also never take any chances at all, missing out on opportunities that could yield good things for them. Job opportunities, romantic relationships…" he trailed off, clearing his throat. "We'll leave it there for today." He clicked the projector off and shuffled his papers about, waiting for the lecture hall to empty. It was only a freshman intro-level course so they filed out fairly quickly and he escaped to his office, slumping down in his chair and massaging his temples. 

If one thing was certain, it was that he couldn't keep going on like this; he needed to tell Charlie how he felt in full. He felt like his chest was going to burst with the force of needing him to know. He wasn't sure he could make it a second longer without springing up from his desk and running through the corridors proclaiming his love like a man possessed. _Ah,_ he thought, _this must be what makes people run through airports in films._

But what could he do to show Charlie he cared? Charlie tended to be surprised by even the smallest of gestures, once getting misty-eyed just because he'd remembered to buy a type of pasta he'd mentioned liking as a kid. He wanted it to be special...

He unlocked his computer and it opened to a Spotify tab of soft piano music that he'd had playing earlier. He could practically feel the light-bulb above his head light up. _Of course,_ he'd get him a piano! Not one to replace his keyboard, or anything, just one to have so that he'd be able to have something to play at both apartments. He grabbed his bag and prepared to leave in fifteen seconds flat, sparing a glance at the neglected stack of papers he had yet to grade without even an ounce of regret. He knew of a piano shop twenty minutes away that he'd wager was still open. 

"Alright, the restaurant Frank's katana guy wants to meet us behind will still be open for another half hour so we have to wait until then." Dennis said with an air of exhausted finality, emerging from the back office almost an hour after he'd entered. Frank followed behind him with a spring in his step and a smug smile. 

Dee looked up from where she'd been swiping through Tinder with Mac's added commentary. "Took you guys long enough. How did negotiating go?" 

"I'll tell you how negotiating went, we're getting Science Bitch _fired."_ Frank said, more excited than they'd seen him in months. 

"Fired? Why?" Mac asked. 

"Yeah, well, Frank figured if he didn't have the money and stability to give Charlie nice food and shelter and insurance, and shit, Charlie would start hanging out here more again." 

"How are you boners gonna pull _that_ off?" Dee asked.

"Simple!" Frank said. "We're gonna fill his office with a bunch of chemicals and shit from the biology department so they think he's trying hoard supplies to make meth." 

"Oh shit! You're gonna _Breaking Bad_ his ass!" Mac said.

"Damn right we are." 

"Dee, that's gonna be on you." Dennis said. 

"What? Come on, guys, I don't have any beef with Science Bitc-"

"Do you want to be included in the scheme or not, Dee?" 

"Well…..included." She said quietly. 

"That's what I thought. Now, let's go over the plan." 

*—*—*

Doc spent the rest of the afternoon exploring multiple shops full of both new and old pianos but none had been quite right. He wasn't sure of much, but he was sure that he'd know the right piano when he saw it. He was also more restricted in terms of cost than he would've liked, so there were entire stores that he didn't even try going into for fear he found one that he liked but couldn't afford. Not that that would've been likely; he didn't think Charlie would appreciate a super fancy piano that got covered in fingerprints and took up an entire room, anyway. 

He vowed to keep looking tomorrow. One only got to confess their love once, and he supposed that he'd just have to keep searching until he found something befitting of Charlie's long epics about spiders and oysters. Doc dialed his number from his car. 

"Hello, Charlie, you're not terribly busy, are you?" 

"Nah, uh, they didn't need me for the plan after all so I'm just catching up on stuff at Paddy's. The rats have gotten a little out of control again. Do you need me?"

"Not presently. I actually called to say I unfortunately won't be at home tomorrow, either, so it's not the best time for you to drop by." His words sounded stiff even to his own ears, and he cursed himself for allowing something meant to be nice to make him so nervous. 

"Oh, okay, um, is it a work thing?" 

"I'm afraid so. My colleague has fallen ill and needs me to fill in for her for a presentation."

"No problem, man, um, what's the presentation on?" 

"Oh, just a larger analysis on leveraging neural networks using the electrical nature of neural impulses. They've just completed a new study."

"I'll take your word for it. Just text me when you're free, dude!" There was a forced brightness to Charlie's voice, one that made Doc worry that it was selfish of him to lie about his whereabouts when it carried the very real possibility of hurting him. 

"Alright, I will! I hope you have a nice night over there." 

"You too." Charlie hung up with a _click_. 

Doc vowed not to overthink things, still desperate to coast on the adrenaline of deciding to say something before he convinced himself not to. He'd convinced himself not to dozens of times before, already. He didn't want to let opportunity slip between his fingers yet again. He knew if he didn't force himself to do something now he never would. 

With that in mind, he tried to focus all of his energy on positive thoughts: what exactly he wanted the piano to look like, what he wanted to say to Charlie about it, where to rearrange his furniture to make room for it, what sheet music to get. 

He went to bed early, a list saved in his phone of places to visit bright and early the next day.   
  


*—*—*

Charlie was still at Paddy's as midnight came and went, listlessly reorganizing the assorted fruits he'd brought for him and Mac to slice with the katana. They hadn't texted him any updates so he figured the heist was still underway. With his extra work done and his ongoing promise to Doc to not ingest any cleaning chemicals to pass the time, he felt restless without anything real to do. He was eying the spray bottle of window cleaner when the door opened, the rest of the gang trailing in with slumped shoulders and sour expressions with water dripping from their clothes. Frank was holding his curled up whip, Mac was covered in dark paint, and Dennis was picking residual glass shards out of his hair. Dee came in last, holding her hands out in front of her like she was afraid to touch anything with them and rushing to the sink to wash them. Her skin looked red and irritated in the neon light. 

"Damn, guys, bad night?" Charlie asked, spotting no katana in sight. 

"Terrible." Mac said, rubbing at the paint on his face. 

"We oughta bring him up to speed here." Frank said, already digging in the fridge for beer and tossing everyone a can. 

"What happened to Dee?" he asked over the sound of her hissing in pain when she added soap.

"Chemical burns." she spat, still scrubbing at her hands. "And all because they decided _I_ was the one who should grab the chemicals to—"

Dennis shot her a look and smoothly interrupted "—to try and chloroform one of the janitors. But she messed it up and got something all over her hands." 

"Damn. And the paint?" 

"Camouflage on the go." Mac said. "It was actually working pretty well, at first…"

"He left a trail of paint everywhere he went." Dennis said. "I actually think we coulda used you out there, Charlie. Mac's idea of stealth was humming the Indiana Jones theme song loud enough for everyone still there to hear."

"I get the temptation but you gotta hum it in your head, dude." Charlie said. 

Mac frowned. "I got caught up in the moment! I did a sweet ass forward roll past one of the janitors, dude, you should've seen it!" 

"Which is why there was paint everywhere." Dennis pointed out. 

"Did you at least get close to getting it?" Charlie asked, fiddling with one of the mangos they now weren't going to be able to slice open like Fruit Ninja. 

"Semi-close. I was in lassoing range but I hit one of the fire sprinklers and they went off all over a bunch of old shit." Frank said, clearly not nearly as bothered as the others about the whole thing. 

"We would've been closer if Dennis hadn't thought he'd be able to seduce the janitor and been wrong." Dee pointed out, wrapping her hands in towels. 

"Shut up, Dee, what kind of lonely female janitor isn't sexually frustrated? She was clearly a lesbian or something." 

"...Right." 

"Sorry about the fruit, Charlie, but we can still use the fake katana on it tomorrow even thought it won't be as good." Mac said before disappearing into the bathroom to wash more paint off.

"It's okay, man." Charlie brightened. "Hey, do you think there'll be a lot of cops there tomorrow?" 

"Probably, why?" Dee said. 

"If there are a bunch of cops there investigating tomorrow Doc might be able to get out the conference thing he has!" 

Frank glowered from his stool and nudged Dennis. Dennis sighed but affected a suspicious expression, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Charlie, are you sure he even _has_ a conference tomorrow? I mean, believe me, I really hate to say it, but we went by the psychology department and it seemed pretty much closed up for the weekend." 

Charlie frowned. "I mean, he's not that adventurous of a guy, I don't know why he'd lie about it…" 

"What was the conference for, Charlie?" Frank asked. 

"Um, something about neural networks and elecrocution?" 

Dennis and Frank exchanged a look. "Sounds a little…" 

"A little what?" 

"A little made up." 

Charlie frowned. "I know him better than you guys do." He pointed out. 

"Hey, nobody's disputing that, we're just looking out for you, buddy. What do _you_ think, Dee?" his tone was pointed. 

"Oh, yeah, totally weird." She said, voice and expression monotone. 

"Has he done anything else that's been strange?" Dennis asked. 

Charlie shifted on his feet, thinking back to Doc seeming off that morning. "I dunno...let's not talk about it, okay? You guys are just used to everybody being as bad as we are, but he's really not." He busied himself with putting the fruit away, shaking his head to himself. Behind him, Frank slid Dennis some cash. 

  
  


*—*—*

Doc had left work as early as he possibly could to continue his search, dodging a large group of police milling around trying to crack some sort of break-in in the Anthropology department that had involved stealing nothing but triggering the sprinkler system and leaving paint and broken glass everywhere. By the time it was almost sunset every shop he'd tried had been much like the day before, either out of his price range or devoid of anything that screamed Charlie to him. He decided to try a flea market out of desperation, figuring there was always the chance he'd get lucky and stumble upon one. 

He picked through rows of vintage flares and faded dish sets before getting to the bigger furniture, casting his eyes over the bustling Saturday crowd in search of anything even vaguely piano-shaped. Thinking he spotted something in the distance, he wove through the hipsters and older white couples in a desperate bid to get there. 

The second he saw the piano it felt exactly how he'd hoped it would when he found the right one, so much so that he felt immediately protective of it and had to physically resist the urge to throw his arms over it to keep the other interested shoppers milling around from looking at it. 

The piano was used and had a couple of chipped keys but was in excellent condition beyond that, a faded mahogany that looked just old enough to lower the price-point without affecting the actual functionality. Its legs were carved with soft dips and curves but it wasn't _too_ fancy, and a quick rendition of chopsticks revealed that it was already mostly in tune. 

The seller had been talking to someone else by the time he'd made it over, a tall middle-aged man, and Doc rocked on his heels out of nerves, barely resisting the urge to walk over and interrupt their conversation. When they shook hands, though, he crossed the short distance over to them and butted right in with a "Terribly sorry to interrupt, but I do hope you haven't agreed to sell this piano just yet?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry sir, but we had just settled on something of a deal here…." The seller said, clasping her hands. 

"Whatever he offered I'll double." Doc said, more surprised than both of them combined to hear the words come out of his mouth. 

The seller raised an eyebrow. "Go on…" 

Twenty minutes later Doc emerged from the market the triumphant new owner of a piano, though he wouldn't officially have it until the next day when it would be moved into his apartment while he was at work. 

He felt an excited buzzing in his stomach and could barely contain the grin stretching across his face on the ride home. He sent Charlie a quick text asking him to come over after 5 PM the next day, the excitement mingling with the anxiety when he thought about what exactly he was planning on saying. Anything too flowery would freak Charlie out, but he also couldn't beat around the bush. He needed to be honest and hope that even if Charlie didn't return his affections they'd be able to continue on as close friends. He thought he might die if he had to go back to the greyscale life he'd led before Charlie had come back into it. 

*—*—*

Charlie had spent most of the day with Mac in the back alley trying to slice fruit with the fake Katana (which had been surprisingly sharp) but even that hadn't been enough to fully distract from the seed of doubt that had taken root in his mind, popping up every ten minutes to make him upset all over again. _Was_ Doc hiding something from him? It wasn't the kind of thing he'd expect from him, but Charlie supposed that that's what made most deceitful people good at being deceitful to begin with.

It's not like he _owned_ Doc. Doc was his own person with his own life and other friends and hobbies that didn't concern Charlie. Frankly, Charlie was fine with that, finding a good chunk of Doc's career-based friends and pursuits insanely boring. He still didn't want to be excluded or tricked, though. It made him feel like an idiot whose time would be better spent getting high and eating cat food with Frank. 

He still couldn't help the part of him that tended to get a little overzealous, spiraling down a million different paths of things he knew about Doc and how to find out more: he could snoop through his apartment while he wasn't there, or follow his car when he left work, or even go through his trash... That was all stuff he had been trying not to do, though, with The Waitress or with anyone. He _did_ already have a key to Doc's apartment, though... it's not like he wasn't allowed to be there alone. Maybe he'd just poke around a little bit, see if there was anything obviously off. That would show Frank and Dennis that there was nothing to be suspicious of. 

He sighed, pulling the fake katana out of a watermelon. He couldn't help but picture Doc's reproachful look if he found out he was snooping around. He didn't think he could do it, at least not without more reason to be suspicious than he currently had. His phone dinged and he squinted to read the text in the setting sunlight. 

**🧑💼: Hi, Charlie, would you mind coming over tomorrow around 5 PM? I'd like to talk to you.**

Charlie frowned. Doc texted in the same weirdly formal way he spoke which he found hard to decipher sometimes. Was he upset? People usually didn't schedule conversations unless they were upset or they had something big to reveal. Something big that had been weighing on them and making them act differently, for example…

Charlie stood outside of Doc's apartment at noon the next day, a bag in hand with the katana just in case Doc was pulling an Indiana Jones and used his boring job as a front for some kind of secret lifestyle and there would be ninjas in his apartment waiting for him. That had never happened the other times Charlie had been there alone to look after Schrödi, but he didn't want to take his chances this time. 

He pressed his back against the wall of the hallway when he got to Doc's floor, sneaking towards the door as slowly as he could. 

"Hey, Charlie...whatcha doing?" Caroline said, peeking out of her door down the hall and making him jump and grab for the katana. 

"Uh, hey, just checking on Schrödi!"

"Oh, why the whole...pink panther routine?"

"Just for fun!" he gave a high-pitched laugh that didn't sound convincing at all. 

"I admire your childlike approach to life, Charlie." She said sagely. 

"Um, okay, thanks, bye!" Charlie said, jamming the key in the lock to find the door already unlocked. He escaped into the apartment as fast as humanly possible, muttering to himself about annoying neighbors. 

The place was deserted except for Schrödi on the kitchen counter with a leg in the air that she was licking like she owned the place. "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be up there," he whispered, "but I won't tell if you don't." 

He crept to Doc's bedroom to rifle through his drawers, mostly just finding old gifts from his family and incomprehensibly worded files about insurance and taxes and stuff. There wasn't even any porn like at Mac and Dennis's apartment. He sighed and looked under the bed, sneezing at the dust and seeing nothing but some old books and boxes. He grabbed one of the books at random and squinted at the title. _Unhooked: How to Help an Addicted Loved one Recover._ Some of the words took him a minute but he frowned once they clicked. The book didn't seem dusty or anything, and there was a bookmark right in the middle. Was there anyone else Doc would read a book like that for? He was about to flip it open when he heard a loud thump in the hallway and the doorknob jiggle. He jumped, banging his head on the bedframe and cursing as he fumbled for the katana. He heard multiple men's voices surrounded by more thumps like they were moving something large. They were too loud to be ninjas but there was a definite possibility that they were some other kind of thug, maybe ones with big weapons that sounded that loud when they bumped into the wall. He held his breath and crept to the bedroom door, closing it to a crack and peeking out. 

The door was open and a group of men were talking and laughing, trying to move something large out of the hallway. He jumped out with his katana in hand, landing in his best fighting stance. "Who the fuck are you?" 

They man already inside who was about twice his height crossed his arms. "Who the fuck are _you?"_

"I asked you first." 

"You're not the man who lives here, we've already met Dr.—"

Charlie cut him off. "If you're here to kill him you won't succeed." 

The man and his friends laughed. "Woah, little guy, it seems like you're the one not supposed to be here." 

Charlie narrowed his eyes. "I have every right to be here, I'm his….friend." 

"Are you sure you're not a fucking strange robber?" 

Charlie sniffed. "Last time I'm asking why you're here, then I go apeshit." 

The man and his friends exchanged looks. "We were hired to move a piano in, it's right here in the hallway." 

Charlie peered out dubiously, katana still aloft. "Doc doesn't play the piano." 

"Look, man, we're just trying to do our job. If you can't prove that you're allowed to be here we'll have to call the cops." 

"You can call him and ask. I'd like to hear confirmation from him that _you're_ supposed to be here." 

"Man, I do not have time for this." The man complained, pulling out his phone and dialing a number before putting it on speaker. 

They all stood in awkward silence while the phone rang until a familiar voice picked up. 

"Hello, I do hope you've not run into any problems with the piano—" 

"As it so happens we do have a slight situation here. You don't happen to know a—what's your name?" 

"Charlie." 

"You don't happen to know a Charlie, do you?"

"I do, is he alright? Has something happened?" 

"No, no, he's just in your apartment trying to fight us off with a...sword-thingy so we thought we'd check." 

The line was silent for a moment, then: "May I speak to him?" 

The man heaved a sigh and handed the phone over. 

"Hey, man, did you actually buy a piano?" 

"Well, erm, yes…why are you in my apartment with a sword?" 

"....Well it sounds stupid now." 

"What is it?" 

"I was worried you were hiding something from me, and so I popped by to see if you were with the katana for self-defense and everything. I thought maybe these guys were gonna try something." He shot them a suspicious look. 

"Charlie, we've talked about you snooping through people's things when they're not home." 

"Yeahh…" Charlie sounded guilty. 

"I'm afraid I'm still not off until five, so—excuse me?" 

"What is it?" Charlie asked.

"Erm, my apologies, Charlie, there appear to be policemen in my office. I'll call you back. Let them bring the piano in without attacking anyone, please!"

Charlie frowned as the line clicked off but handed the phone back, crossing his arms. "He said you can bring it in." 

Doc had pushed up from his chair with a frown, still disappointed that Charlie had seen the piano before he'd intended him to. He let the officers into his office. "May I help you?"

"You just might be able to, Sir. You wouldn't mind if we took a look around your office, would you? We have a warrant." 

"By all means." Doc said, absolutely puzzled. "What is this regarding?" 

"The recent break-in." 

"Oh, I don't think they would've taken anything from here."

The cop gave him a look. "That's not our concern." 

Doc stood to the side, puzzled, as they went through his desk drawer and cabinets, spreading papers around and entirely disrupting his organizing system. "I'd appreciate more care." He said primly, arms crossed. They ignored him. 

"Bingo." One of them said, pulling out a duffel bag that he didn't recognize. He began to go through the contents, pulling out various bags and bottles of chemicals covered in warning signs. 

"I have no idea where that came from." He said. The officers exchanged a look.

"Right, I bet you've never seen it before, huh?"

"I really haven't!" Doc said, bewildered. 

"And I'll bet you've never seen this paint before, either, right?" He held up a bottle of dark paint and Doc shook his head. "Care to tell us why you have the exact paint found all over the school after Wednesday night's break-in along with all of the chemicals the chemistry department reported missing the next day? Strange that it lines up perfectly with the anonymous tip we received, too..."

Doc opened his mouth then closed it again. "This is absolutely ludicrous, what use would I have for all of that?" 

"I don't know, Johnny English, why _would_ you have most of the chemicals required to create crystal meth? Put your hands behind your back, please."

Doc's stomach dropped. "Am—am I under arrest?" 

"Afraid so, on top of the chemicals there was thousands of dollars of worth of damage done to the Anthropology department. I'm bound to tell you that you have the right to remain silent and that anything you say can and will be used against you." 

Ten minutes later and Doc was in the back of a police car after being escorted, in handcuffs, past all of his professional colleagues. He was mortified. He didn't remain silent, bickering with the officer the entire way over to the station up until the point they were walking in. 

"You're telling me you have _no_ footage of this incident?"

"You're pretty chatty for someone under arrest." 

"I'm simply asking for you to give a _smidgen_ of thought to your actions."

"You wanna know what I think? I think that you're a British guy who saw a couple episodes of Breaking Bad and wanted to reenact it in America." 

"Well _I_ think you're an American officer who's bad at their job, though that comes as no surprise." 

_That_ comment had not gone over well and had earned him a spot in a tiny cell while he waited to be allowed to make his one phone call. He decided to call Charlie because he was certain to pick up and even if wouldn't be able to bail him out himself he'd be able to ask Caroline for help. 

"Hello, Charlie, I'm afraid I've ended up in something of a pickle since we last spoke." 

"What pickle? The piano guys just left, by the way. Dunno why you bought it, buuut it looks really good."

"I'm glad to hear it. I've, er, actually just been arrested. It's a complete error on their part, obviously, but they seem to believe I'm behind a break-in that happened at the university a few days ago." 

" _Holy shit!"_

 _"_ Yes, indeed. I'm afraid I need to be bailed out. I was wondering if you could go and see if Caroline's home."

"Dude." 

"Yes?"

"My friends are the ones who broke in!" 

"I'm sorry, _pardon?"_

"Yeah, dude, they were trying to get this cool ass katana! Why do they think you did it?" 

"There was a duffel bag full of the chemicals required to make crystal meth squirreled away in my office along with the paint that they found everywhere." 

"Oh, shit, well that'll do it." 

"No kidding. You don't suppose your friends… planted it there on purpose?" 

Charlie sighed. "I'm sorry. They definitely did." 

"Well, there's nothing to be done about it until I'm out of here, I'm afraid, unless you have some sort of indisputable proof." 

" _Dude._ Aren't you filming Armitage Shank's cage right now? For that sleep experiment thing?" 

"By Jove, Charlie, you're right! You can probably see the door to my office in the background!" 

"Doc, I can _totally_ get that footage for you! You won't even have to pay to be bailed out!" 

"Thank you so much, Charlie. I honestly hadn't even spared one thought towards that camera. You...you don't mind reporting your friends?"

"Not when it's you they're fucking with. They know you're off limits." 

Warmth spread through Doc's chest. "Charlie, I….that's rather sweet. Thank you. For everything." 

"No problem, dude, I'll be over there asap." 

An hour later the door slid open and the cop from before led him out, seeming sheepish. "We've had an update from the officers still down at the university that a camera on one of your rat? cages exonerates you. There's footage of you leaving your office around 4 PM and of a lanky blonde woman entering with a duffel bag around 11 which lines up with the timeframe we've put together. You have some friends here to pick you up." 

Doc drew himself up to his full height, stepping out of the cell with his chin in the air. "I'll be on my way, then. Best of luck on your next arrest, a good rule of thumb is to arrest individuals who are actually guilty." 

The cop glared but didn't say anything, just grabbed him by the shoulder and brought him out to where Charlie and Caroline were waiting. 

Charlie grinned when he saw him. "Look at you, dude, the _last_ person I would ever expect to be here." 

Doc smiled, ruffled. "Yes, well, I would agree with you on that front. This is far from where I thought I'd be right now." 

The car ride home was filled with Caroline's good-natured attempts at small-talk but the closer they got to his apartment the more Doc's nerves began to build in his stomach. Despite the day's craziness he still wanted to tell Charlie everything he'd been planning to, especially now that he'd already seen the piano and was obviously confused as to why he'd bought it in the first place. 

The second they were home Doc sighed and took off his jacket, leaning against the door for a moment. "What a day." 

"Yeah, I'm really sorry about the gang. I didn't know they were gonna pin anything on you."

"...Yes, I might have to have words with them about that."

"Oh shit, you're gonna yell at them?" 

Doc rubbed at his face, weary. "I feel as though I might have to. I'm not sure. For now, though, I'd like to forget any of it ever happened." He crossed the threshold into the main room to look at the piano, a smile tugging at his lips in spite of himself. "Oh, good." He sighed. "It fits just as I hoped it would."

"It's definitely nice." Charlie said from where he was greeting Shrödi. He walked over and played a few keys. "But why'd you buy it if you don't even play?" 

Doc could feel every beat of his heart in his chest as he stayed stock-still where he stood, looking at Charlie and feeling absolutely helpless. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Charlie tilted his head, confused. 

"It's for you." 

"...Really? But I have my keyboa—"

"I know. But I wanted you to have something you could play here. Whenever you like." 

A slow smile spread across Charlie's face. "Woah, dude. You dished out all that money just for me?" 

Doc huffed a shy laugh. "It wasn't _that much_ money. I'm sorry you saw it before it was even in the apartment, that definitely wasn't my intention."

Charlie shifted where he stood. "I shouldn't have been here without telling you." 

"Well, I know I'm not the best liar so I'm sorry if I gave you reason for suspicion. I just wanted it to be a surprise." 

"It's not your fault. Frank and Dennis kept saying all this dumb stuff about you to confuse me." 

"They really seem to have it out for me, hm?"

"They have it out for everybody. Frank's just mad that I'm not at the apartment every night and Dennis is probably just mad they can't force me to do their dirty work all the time anymore." 

"Then _good._ You know I think you deserve better." 

Charlie smiled softly, pressing a few keys on the piano. "I know. And it's not even my birthday!"

"I just thought you might like it anyway. If you don't, though, I completely understand, obviously you're under no obligation to play it if you don't want—"

"It's great, really. Thank you, man." Charlie said, rubbing at his eyes. "Nobody's ever, like, treated me the way you do before." 

"It's everybody else's loss." Doc said vehemently. "—But I suppose it's good that you don't have multiple people buying you pianos." 

Charlie sat in front of the piano, playing a few keys of the dayman song that Doc had heard him hum before. "This is really cool, man, I've never really played anything other than my keyboard and old guitars before." 

"I don't intend for it to replace your keyboard, or anything, but I've rather enjoyed the times I've heard you play. You have a real talent." 

Charlie grinned and ducked his head. "I don't know about that, man, I just mess around and make up small parts of songs. I don't even read sheet music."

"The best skill you can have is making up tunes of your own, you know. That's what all the great composers did." 

Charlie squinted. "You've really turned me into a nerd, man, because I actually think that's kinda cool." 

Doc couldn't help his smitten laugh at that. His heart swelled and he forced himself to speak. "I actually did want to speak with you about something, as well…"

"You wanna sit down, or something? You kinda look like you're gonna pass out." Charlie patted the piano bench next to him. 

Doc swallowed and crossed the short distance to the piano on wooden legs, sliding in next to Charlie and trying not to let how very close they were make him even more nervous. "I wanted to show you how much I've appreciated having you in my life...it's nothing I ever would've expected, but I'm endlessly thankful that our paths crossed again after the unfortunate circumstances of our first meeting." 

Charlie was still tilting his head, eyes rapidly scanning his face as he puzzled through his words. "Man, did you prepare this whole speech?" He said, a slightly nervous attempt at levity. 

"I'm afraid I'm not nearly finished." Doc said, forcing himself to push onwards. "I know that I don't always understand you, or you me, for that matter, but I enjoy your company immensely more than anyone else's... I care deeply for you. That is to say, ehm, that I...have feelings for you." 

Charlie was scrubbing at his hair, avoiding eye contact. "When you say feelings…"

Doc felt like there was enough pressure in his chest to choke him. "Romantic ones." 

Charlie snuck a glance up at him, eyes darting rapidly around the room. He gave an awkward laugh. "Wow, man, I can't say that I was expecting you to say that." 

"Charlie, I understand if you don't feel the same. I didn't feel like I could go on without telling you for any longer, though, not without it eating away at me. I just hope you still feel comfortable being my friend." Doc hardly breathed between words, desperate to make sure that Charlie didn't get too spooked. 

"I mean...I care about you, too, a lot more than I ever thought I would for someone like you. No offense."

A small smile. "That's all I need, really. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable, just surprised." Charlie insisted, finally looking at him without looking away, eyes big and curious. "I just...I've never even considered feeling that way for anyone but The Waitress. I like being around you, though. I like your apartment and your cooking and your humming and how patient you are. And I like when you stay with me after I fall asleep on the couch. And I like when you explain things without being a dick about it. You're never a dick about anything." 

Doc's cheeks were warm and it took him a minute to reply. "Thank you, Charlie. Nobody's ever said anything like that before." 

"They just gotta get to know you like I have, then they'd say the same thing." 

Doc was silent, studying Charlie's face. Charlie pressed a few more random keys, chewing his lower lip. 

"So you like…..wanna kiss me, and stuff?" he was avoiding eye contact again. 

"I would only ever want to do something like that if you wanted it too." Doc replied evenly, his uncertainty only growing.

"Say yes or no."

"I….I guess the answer would be yes." 

One second Charlie was looking down at his piano and the next he was surging forward, nose knocking painfully into his in an awkward attempt at slotting their mouths together that felt more like having his face scraped by a beard-covered cheek. 

"Shit, that was supposed to work better than that. Um, sorry, dude, that was an impulse decision." Charlie forced a laugh. 

Doc didn't say anything, mouth open in disbelief. He wondered if he looked as flustered as he felt. "Well, if you'd like to try it again, I mean, if you'd like to, that is...I'd be amenable." 

Apprehension flickered over Charlie's face. "If it doesn't...feel right, or whatever... can we just, like, pretend it never happened?" 

"Of course." 

"Okay." Charlie shut his eyes, leaning in more slowly this time. Doc did the same, cupping Charlie's cheek with his hand. 

It was a chaste press of their lips together more than anything else, but it was still enough to make Doc's pulse skyrocket, the feeling of Charlie's face in his hands more than he'd ever thought he'd get. Charlie pulled back after a moment, looking just as curious as he had before. "You know, I don't usually like doing that," he said with the air of someone sharing a secret, "—but that really wasn't so bad." 

Doc huffed a shy laugh. "That's good enough for me." 

Charlie lifted a hand and slid it under Doc's jaw, tracing along the edge before letting it fall again. "I've always wanted to do that. I'm totally gonna touch your face all the time, now, dude. It's so _sharp."_

Doc ducked his head, eyes crinkling, as Charlie pressed another few more kisses to his lips before pulling back, a small smile on his face. He played a few random chords of something with a flourish, pressing down on all of the keys and sliding his hand until he got to the top one, met with more laughter from Doc.

*—*—*

"Does this mean I'm gay?" Charlie asked later from next to him in the dark, eyes shiny and endless in the low light.

Doc took his time to respond. "Sexuality is much more nuanced than you may have been led to believe, Charlie. Most people exist somewhere on a spectrum when it comes to sexuality _and_ gender."

"Gender, too, huh?" Charlie sounded thoughtful.

"Mhm." 

Charlie was quiet for a moment. "...I just feel like I'd know if I was like Mac, you know? Before he came out it was so obvious, everybody knew it, but me? I don't know, cause, like, I don't even know what it _is_ I feel about you because I've never felt it before you. Does that even make sense?"

"Yes, it does. Everybody's different, you know, you don't have to be exactly like Mac. I'd encourage you to let yourself feel without putting any kind of label on it, for now, okay? Sometimes labels do the opposite of make things clearer."

Charlie breathed out slowly, turning over on his back and wiggling so that his head was nestled into the crook between Doc's neck and shoulder. "I hate labels anyway, man, so that works out for me." 

"For the record, I've never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else either." 

"That's pretty awesome." Charlie said around a yawn. Doc could feel the grin without having to see it. 

"Yes, I think so too."

"Thanks for the piano." 

"I'm sorry if it isn't, you know, _rock and roll_ enough for you." 

Charlie laughed, breath puffing against his skin. "I'll find a way to make it punk, dude, just you wait." 

"Should I be scared?"

Charlie snuggled in closer. "Probably." 

**Author's Note:**

> Songs that inspired this work:
> 
> Asleep On a Sunbeam - Belle & Sebastian 
> 
> Door - IDKHBTFM
> 
> twt: onlybieeding


End file.
